Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Batla House - 2

Food varieties range from Afghani to Mughlai to whatnot!
The price is lower here but that doesn't affect the quality. You get the best and fresh chicken and mutton meat here and those who eat big red meat are also welcomed here.

In evening, if you, by mistake drive into these streets, you're going to do blunder. In a five feet road, people walk. Pulling rickshaws are there. Autos are running, painting walkers with dust. Bike riding is awesome here. If you push into the crowd with your bike, you get the true and real lesson of driving here. Though you'll exercise your feet and fingers too much but you get something in return.

The place becomes most attracting during Look sabha and Rajya sabha election. Roofless jeeps, decorated with cloth posters of political parties stand on the divider of the road. Thanks to the MLA of this area who dared to get the divider to divide the road into two lanes. Party workers stand on the jeep. And they shout slogans throwing their hands in all directions. They put so much energy into it that their neck veins become visible. At a difference of 5 meters another jeep is standing with the posters and party workers of another political party. They are doing the same thing, throwing their arms and body to the other jeep.
It feels as if whole Indian political campaigns have gathered to this place only. We can see the party workers making election live here otherwise Indian election is becoming lifeless. When I see them I miss my childhood days.
They shout slogans with so much energy that force you to run away from the place if you're visiting it for the first time. It looks as if they would get down the jeeps and beat the opposition people any moment.

The voting date finally arrives. People gather to vote. And this the place which actually gives life to the election. Each single member of the area comes out to vote. Ladies, wearing burka show up.

Party workers are smart enough. They keep standing in a group of six or seven at each corner of the streets maintaining some distance of 3 meters. They stop each voter and convince him/her with some flying signals to vote for their party only. Cops keep standing outside the voting booths. Peaceful voting goes on.

The voting day makes Batla house a newly wedded bride.

I always wonder about them. Why don't they make their own Muslim party. Because all parties are fooling them and they have so much of energy to put into it then they shall look into making their own party.
Shouldn't they?

The government is trying to polish the area so road making work, JAL board work, drainage system making work, electricity works keep going on in this area.

All of the above work have a common this to start their work; digging the road.
They excavate the roads and put the mud on the roadside. The road is dug. Mud and malba are occupying the roadside area. From where you will come out into the market or goto office?

Where there is will, there is the way!

Like lines of small ants people walk down the heaps of mud and malba. Up and down. Left and right.
They become so comfortable that they don't fall in the ditch. If you are going there for the first time during excavation time then I'm sure you'll fall into the ditches.
People over here comfortable in every situation. They don't complaint. They adopt the things that are being given to them. Everybody lives happily here.

The worst thing about this place is that males stare at girl even when they are wearing burka. And if a girl come out in jeans then men rape her with their eyes. Most of them are educated but still they do it.

Will be back with more interesting stuffs about this place soon. Stay connected.

Tuesday, August 26, 2014

Batla House

Batla House is a place in South Delhi, India. It is situated on the bank of dying river, Yamuna.
Only Muslims live here. Like other Muslim dominated area, its also over crowded. Most of the population of this place comes from UP and Bihar.
Foolish Hindus call it Chhota Pakistan.

They come here and work in other parts of New Delhi. Ninety percent of the people come here as students. Like flood they come, get admission in Jamia Millia Islamia University, Jamia Hamdard University, and some other leading colleges of Delhi University, study hard there, get good jobs in India and outside and leave the place. The population of this area keeps on increasing because the number of residents who migrate to other place around the world is far lesser than the number of people who come here, adding to the population in search of jobs and as students.
They come not just to earn their livelihood but to settle permanently here.

In morning, streets look deserted like that of Afghanistan and as day rises up with the Sun the scene keeps on changing. And when the Sun falls behind the tall buildings, the place becomes really beautiful.

It becomes so beautiful that even an ant has to think million times to creep down the streets.

Every evening is looks like its a Diwali evening. Ladies, wearing burka do shopping as if the next day is Eid. They break into shops. They buy clothe pieces of suits, kurta. Pajama, stoles, dupatta, burka and other wearable dresses except western dresses.

Shopping doesn't stop here. They rush into household things shops and do buying lots of stuffs.
Shopkeepers are smart enough here. They treat ladies as if they are their sisters and mothers. They welcome ladies and show them everything that they have on their shelves. I always wonder about the factories who make such clothes. Because the fabrics are just awesome and colors beat the stuffs that are kept in HiFi showrooms and malls of Delhi. The shopkeepers give discounts as well as if the shopping is being done for their own houses.

Every second shop is of either kapde ki dukaan or eating outlets. The street roadsides are over loaded with the heaps of cloths and that of chicken and mutton.
At times, I forget that Muslims eat vegetables also. When I see vegetable venders, laying their vegetables thelas on roadsides I ask myself, 'do these people eat vegetables also?'

Eating outlets are decorated with big glass covers which display chickens chopped in different shapes or some big biryani handis. And when you enter in any of these outlets you will have to wait for sometime to grab a seat. The food is extra delicious. And price is too low. These outlets force me to think over the difference between price of veg food and nonveg food. I just can't believe that the non veg food are cheaper than the veg here.

The variety of chicken and mutton ranges from Afghani to Mughlai to whatnot.

To be cont...with the spirit of the people who live here and the time of election campaigns down these overcrowded streets!!

Sunday, August 10, 2014

Why Sisters are Special!

It all began.
And it all began.
I rose up and watched TV.
She rose up began to broom the house.
I went to kitchen and made tea for her.
'Don't eat before I tie rakhi.' she said.
When she went for bath, I ate as much as I could have because this was a fast day till the right time. Like every year.
She asked me to take shower and to wait till one thirty in after noon as per bloody pundits was the holy time to tie rakhi.
I went out and bought some gifts for her.
She took three hours to design a plate to put rakhi, sweets and another stuffs.
I arrived home.
She didn't open the gift packet.
She was busy with making my favorite food.
The right time arrived and rain began.
I chose to take bath in rain.
It rained and rained.
I took off my clothes and stood on the roof.
Raindrops hit me hard.
I stood still like a tree.
Motionless.
Rain tapped everywhere on me.
She stood under shade and shouted at me.
I would become unwell if I stand under rain for long.
The designed plate sat on the table. Vermilion was placed. Then curd mixed with rice grains was placed next to the vermilion. A ghee dia was put at the center of the plate. Next to it was the transparent bowl which was full of barfi, moti chur ka laddoo, and white rasogullas.
My mouth began to water.
I was becoming restless.
I wanted her to get the rakhi tied and start eating sweets.
Fan was switched off.
Dia was lit.
I was made to sit on sofa still.
She pasted some curd mixed with rice grains on my forehead between my eyebrows.
She applied vermilion above that.
I took one rasogulla and moved it my mouth.
She slapped on my hand and snatched the sweets.

Finally rakhi was tied.
The plated moved all around my face before me.
As if I was an idol of God.
Then the sweets was brought.
I wanted to take a bite.
She pushed whole into my mouth.
Story ends here.

Thursday, August 7, 2014

UPSC Aspirants!

Seventy percent of the UPSC aspirants don't study history, civics, geography, economics and other arts subjects till their graduation.
They start these subjects only when they start preparing for UPSC.

Then why the hell you useless creatures on earth are after English?

Does this subject look too dull?
Is tough mathematical calculations are there in it?
Do you need to mug up all the dates and years and names of the people who had died some hundred years ago?
Do you need to have command over all the weather, changing seasons, mountains, winds, oceans, and all the craps which are not going to be used in your life further?
Does it deal with your blood vessels, tissues, human reproductive system that are not easy to learn?
Do you gulp up the books of economics, foreign policies and other useless things?

English is just a language, like bloody Hindi.
Unfortunately, you don't know Hindi as well!
Sanskrit n Urdu ka to pta nhi!

Shame.
No?

If you want to go for the road shows then fight with the government to build up the base of basic education system.
Sit in Ramleela Maidan or Jantar mantar or wherever you want to.

I heard people saying students who come from villages don't understand English much.
I ask them, don't they understand what's porn?

Sunday, August 3, 2014

The Workers!

I always wonder when I see tall hi-tech buildings, hotels getting build up.

About the workers,
Who are adding their blood and sweat,
To build such beautiful buildings.

Will they be allowed to enter into the premises,
Of the these buildings,
Once they get completed,
To see their art and labor?

They still live in jhuggis with tin roofs,
They still make thier food on woods,
They still eat cheap foods,
They still suffer and can't fulfill the wish of thier wives and children.

Though they make apartments,
laced with hitech equipment,
Beautiful gardens,
Beautiful kitchens,
big blue swimming pools,
Fulfilling the dreams of rich!

Tajmahal was build in twenty years.
And hands of the workers and artists were chopped off.
They knew it and left a loophole in it,
Which can't be repaired today!

Fear in the Dream!

‘What the fuck?’ I said to my friend.
‘Yes, what the fuck.’ He said.

We ran across a ploughed fiend and reached to the railway track within seconds. The transportation was faster than that of light.

I was sitting in my room. I don’t know how it looked like. It was just a room at the first floor of a building which was situated in the middle of the field. The farmer had ploughed the field and a fresh rain had showered the mud grains. The grains were dry. May be the rain had arrived few days ago and sun had dried the mud powder which is suitable for farming.

I was lying in bed or doing something. I don’t know what I was doing actually. My friend was also doing something. Don’t know what. But he was talking of some magazines. He was in a cheap half sleeve shirt and a pair of shorts. I was wearing the same dress. Mine was little dark because of dust that had layered on my shirt and shorts because I was habitual of wiping my sweating face with the sleeves of my shirt and some games in the dust had left my shorts dirty as well.


We saw a huge train which had just jumped off its track. It was red in color and was bigger in height but smaller in length than the trains that we have here in India. I signaled him to help me to save the people. But we couldn’t see anybody looking out through windows of the train.

‘W-h-a-t t-h-e f-u-c-k?’ He said.
‘Yes, what the fuck.’ I said, running towards the tail of the train. The engine had left the compartment behind and it only had slipped off the track. We saw a gap between the two increasing.

‘Look,’ He said to me. I turned to him and began to run like a madman. He ran to somewhere and went invisible. I don’t know where he had disappeared. I ran with all my might. Within seconds I had covered miles. I had seen the engine running in my direction. I got it. It was about to run over me. I escaped. It ran behind me off the track. I couldn’t understand how it became possible for the engine to run down the ploughed field. But it ran. And it ran comfortably.

Now, I had reached to my village and didn’t look behind because engine was still running towards me as if it had decided to kill me. And I knew the reason why it wanted to kill me. It looked like a man with big head and without body. The engine was occupied by a human head.

I slipped into the first home which was at the outskirt of my village. Village started from only there and ended to the bank of river Ganga. My home was somewhere at the other end near the bank. And there was a solid road from the outskirt to my home. And I thought if I run down a solid road then it won’t take the engine much time to catch me and trash me under its wheels.

On the way, I had understood why it wanted to kill me. I had been speaking lots of bad things about the organization in which I was working. I dint like it because of partiality and many other things that were discouraging me. I was getting less focused on the work just because the organization was not giving me what I deserved. And it had sent the train to kill me. It followed me like a dinosaur.

I found my cousin at the entrance of the house and didn’t tell him why I was running away. Generally I don’t visit his place though he and his family like me and my family.
‘Let’s go to your home.’ He said.
‘No.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t want to.’
‘Oh, don’t fool me. Let’s go. I know you spend most of your time at your place whenever you visit village.’

He forced me and I couldn’t say no. But smartly, I chose the way which was very narrow. It was not actually a road. It was the boarder of the banana gardens which formed a narrow way on which only one person could walk. We rode bicycles down this narrow lane when we were kids to prove we were good bicycle riders.

The engine stood at the main solid road and looked confused as it couldn't run down across the banana gardens.

On the way home, he had asked me to say hi-hello to other village people whose houses were coming on our way, among banana gardens! But still I din't feel safe.

But I was in hurry and I wanted to reach to my place where my mother was waiting for me. I didn’t understand how she came to know that I was going to visit village though it all happened in seconds. She had made rice, daal, aaloo fry, chutney and achar for me.

I kept meeting people and moving on but my cousin had also disappeared on the way. Don’t know where!
Now, my place was one kilometer away and I had to walk full one kilometer and it was turning dark. I moved with a fear in my mind that anytime, the engine could run over me!

Before I could reach my home, something else happened.

I opened my eyes and found myself sleeping in my bed. I removed the sheet away, switched off the AC and looked to the wall clock and found it was forty five past six. I was late. I'm habitual of waking up between five and six. But it was Sunday so it was ok. I went to kitchen and switched gas stove and put a tea pan on it. I poured milk into and added water, sugar and tea leaves into it, slowed the flame and moved out to balcony. I stood there and looked to the trees and visualized my dream twice.



Saturday, August 2, 2014

Debut novel

My debut is coming soon.
Book cover with title will be uploaded here soon.